


Faustian Bargains (Are No Excuse to Be Rude)

by EmeraldAshes



Series: Ineffable Husbands Oneshots [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angsty Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Who Is Way Too Chill About All This, Bonding, Burned Down Bookshop, But Also This is the Good Omens Fandom So..., Deals with Demons, Fluff and Angst, Human Aziraphale, M/M, Oneshot, Soul Selling, could be read as friendship, demon Crowley, faustian bargains, for 0.2 seconds, mild flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-11 19:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21473005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldAshes/pseuds/EmeraldAshes
Summary: All in all, Ezra Fell thought, selling your soul to the devil was rather anticlimactic. Oh, sure, the whole tortured-in-hell-for-eternity bit would probably be quite spectacular, but the actual sale? An absolute disappointment.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Husbands Oneshots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527989
Comments: 18
Kudos: 248
Collections: Crowley and Aziraphale Fics, Crowley x Aziraphale, The Good Omens Library, Very Good Omens





	Faustian Bargains (Are No Excuse to Be Rude)

All in all, Ezra Fell thought, selling your soul to the devil was rather anticlimactic. Oh, sure, the whole tortured-in-hell-for-eternity bit would probably be quite spectacular, but the actual sale? An absolute disappointment.

“What did you expect?” the demon Crowley had asked him. “A light show?”

Ezra straightened his waistcoat, feeling rather put out over the whole situation. “Certainly more than a verbal agreement; it hardly feels official. We should at least have a contract.”

The demon stared at the man through his black sunglasses. “A contract.”

“A contract signed in blood,” Ezra affirmed 1.

Crowley paused. “I could get one, if you like.”

Ezra pouted 2. “Well, there’s hardly a point to it now.”

Crowley’s lips twitched toward a smile before falling back in line. “Right. On with the fun part.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and raising a hand slowly to the sky. With a loud snap of his fingers, the crumbled ashes of a London bookshop began to rebuild itself. Beams launched out from the ground, bricks hopped on top of each other, and books abruptly returned to existence before neatly stacking themselves on their shelves. Crowley could have accomplished this with a great deal less dramatics, but this mortal did seem to appreciate a good show.

“Oh, dear,” the aforementioned mortal said, placing a warm and lightly trembling hand on Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley could have resisted preening, had he been so inclined. But pride was a sin, and he had been slacking off recently. “Not bad, eh?”

Ezra smiled at him, all dimples and shining blue eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

Crowley stepped out of reach, miracleing away his rapidly forming blush. “Er, well. I’ll be going then.”

The smile fell. “Going?”

“Away. To tempt humans into sin and all that,” Crowley said quickly. “It’s my job.”

“I see. So I’ll meet you again when it’s time to drag me to hell, I suppose.”

“That’s how it’s usually done,” Crowley agreed.

Ezra huffed, blue eyes narrowed . “You could at least stay for tea.”

After 6,000 years of human history, this was a first. “Tea?”

Ezra brightened at the thought. He stepped up to the door of his bookshop, swinging it open with considerable cheer. “I don’t see why not.”

Crowley could see several reasons why not, beginning with the fact that he had tempted the man into eternal damnation some five minutes previous and ending with the fact that Crowley preferred coffee.

What he said, however, was, “Lead the way.”

The walk to the bookshop’s kitchen was, theoretically, quite short. But Ezra paused every few steps to touch a binding or straighten a tome. He pulled a few books from the shelf, flipping carefully through their pages and, on one notable occasion, clucking with disapproval as he smoothed out a dog-eared corner.

The man’s quiet devotion was no surprise, really. This temptation had been Crowley’s easiest since the Nixon administration. The solitary bookworm had seemed almost eager to trade his soul for the return of his beloved shop and a large collection of dusty old books3.

Crowley found this both wholly pathetic and somewhat admirable. As the blond busied himself making tea, Crowley asked, “So, any big plans now that you’re doomed to hellfire?”

Ezra said, “I’ve been meaning to reread Wilde. Although Faust might be more appropriate, under the circumstances.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, serpentine tongue flicking out playfully. “You could literally commit murder, and you wouldn’t get any worse punishment for it.”

Eyes shining with a hint of mischief, Ezra said, “You really are a wily old serpent, aren’t you?”

“Just offering a little advice. Might as well take it while you can.”

“I’m quite content with my usual day-to-day, I’m afraid. My routines don’t really lend themselves to murder. Perhaps sloth. Now, how do you take your tea?”

“With a dash of virgin’s blood,” Crowley drawled.

“I have milk and sugar,” Ezra continued as if he had not spoken.

Crowley dumped a heaping spoonful of sugar into his tea, then, at Ezra’s pained twitch, added another. “You’re taking this too well. No second thoughts? Sudden repentance? Realization that your eternal damnation is too high a price to pay for” -- Crowley waved his hand vaguely, taking in the shop -- “yada yada yada.”

“I’m rather fond of all this” -- Ezra mimicked his motion -- “Yada yada yada. It's my home.”

“I’m rather fond of not having my eyes boiled or my fingernails ripped out one by one on the daily, but that’s just business as usual down below.”

“Well, I can’t very well take it back, can I? So I’d best make the most of it.”

Crowley sipped his tea, nose curling in distaste. He really had put far too much sugar in it.

Ezra placed his teacup onto the saucer, the sound ringing in the quiet room. “It’s almost a relief, frankly. I always assumed I would go to hell anyway.”

“Seriously? Next to most of the people they let in lately, you look like a bloody angel.”

Ezra’s smile was weary. “I’m gay. That’s generally frowned upon.”

“_That _is bullshit,” Crowley countered. “That isn’t something you go to hell for. Trust me, I know.”

Ezra shrugged, continuing to sip his tea. Black, naturally. The damned hipster.

Crowley continued. "I wouldn't have bought your soul if we already owned it. That would just be stupid."

"I suppose that's fair." Another sip. "How has your day been?"

"Are you seriously trying to make small talk right now?"

"Well, you're certainly not making it easier for me."

"I am a demon."

"Under the circumstances, I imagine I should get used to the company."

Crowley hissed, standing up from the table. "I just talked you into an eternity of hellfire. I know hell. It ssssucks. I wouldn't go back if it weren't my job. Which I should be getting back to. See you in a few decades."

"Crowley." 4

"Yessss?"

"Thank you," Ezra Fell said softly, “for bringing everything back.”

The demon Crowley made a frustrated sound and resumed his storm out.

Fortunately for Ezra, there was a bit more to selling your soul than saying, "Yes, sure, let's do it."

Hell is a bureaucracy, after all. The typical protocol was to fill out a large stack of paperwork, send it through no fewer than four departments for approval, have it rejected due to a typo, and then repeat the whole thing over again a few times.5

Just this once, Crowley decided to skip the whole aggravating process.

He did, however, come back for tea.

1 Indeed, Ezra had quite a few ideas as to how to improve upon the process. If one was going to sell one’s soul, then one at least expected it to be an _occasion._

2 Ezra would disagree with this description if he were reading this work, but he would also disagree with the notion that he was fictional. So I won’t tell him if you won’t.

3 These books were, to be absolutely fair, first editions. And Ezra did dust them occasionally.

4 It is a common misconception that names have power over demons. Primarily, they have the power to make a demon turn around and say "What?"

5 Unfortunately, hell is also hell for the people who worked there; Her fault, Crowley was sure.


End file.
